


A Matter of Trust

by ceallaig, siffycup



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bullying, Family Feels, Friendship, Gen, Second Chances, So Sweet It'll Rot Your Teeth, Trust, besties forever, body image issues, but neither implied nor intended., fathers and sons, slash if you squint and tilt your head and polish your goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-24 23:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1621547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceallaig/pseuds/ceallaig, https://archiveofourown.org/users/siffycup/pseuds/siffycup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it comes down to a matter of trust -- in a friend, in a father, in yourself. Steve's son is tired of being small, skinny and so unlike his big, strapping dad.  It takes Steve and Bucky to show him just how much he's like his dad, in all the ways that really count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> This original headcanon from siffycup http://siffy.tumblr.com/post/25905521541 with its accompanying art got ceallaig's cylinders firing, and this is the mutual extrapolation of that headcanon. For the purposes of this story, the boy in question is probably about eight.

“You’ve got your inhaler? And the jacket is warm enough?”

“Dad!”

Steve threw up his hands in surrender, laughing. “All right, I’m sorry. Have a good day at school, and I’ll see you this afternoon. I love you.” The tow-headed boy rolled his eyes at the sentiment, but didn’t pull away from the hug his father gave him. Shouldering his backpack, he took off out the front door to the waiting school bus as fast as braced legs would carry him. 

Steve watched his son climb onto the bus and take a seat by the window. He used to drive Barney to school, but that had stopped after the last doctor visit. His legs were finally strong enough now to no longer need the crutches, and Barney insisted that  
his dad let him manage on his own, and let him take the bus like all the other kids. “Such a stubborn kid,” he murmured.

_Well, you know what they say—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree._

Steve smiled and looked at the photograph on the mantle. He’d finally given in to one of Natasha’s persistent matchmaking attempts and made a coffee date with Lisa, which had turned into dinner, and then into much more. They were on their honeymoon to an ‘undisclosed location’ before the press was even aware the wedding had taken place, thanks to Pepper’s organizational skills. Lisa loved big band music and had taught him to dance (not well, but he managed not to step on her feet too often). She made him smile and laugh in a way he’d not been able to for a very long time, and he felt at peace with her. Nothing fazed her—not his alter ego, not his friends (and they could be a very taxing lot at times), not the unique challenges that came with being Mrs. Captain America. She sailed through it all with a smile, and when she looked at him, all she saw was Steve. He’d lost her far too soon—a young driver, a dark wet road, and a corner taken too quickly—but Steve would always be grateful for the three years they’d been given. And for the son that was his reason for wanting to make the world a better and safer place.

James Buchanan Rogers had his mother’s eyes, and her smile. And her brain—the boy was an honor student and a science whiz. Lord knows the scientific bent hadn’t come from him…a fact that Tony was only too eager to point out. He’d won first prize at the spring science fair with an exhibit on the dangers of dihydrogen monoxide. It wasn’t until Barney had written out the chemical abbreviation that Steve had gotten the joke: H2O. It was the only time Steve had been glad Lisa was not with him anymore—she would never have let him live that one down…

From Steve, the boy had seemed to inherit his original physique, small and thin. He was plagued with asthma and several allergies that left him prey to just about every bug that went around. He also had the muscle weakness in his legs that necessitated the braces. The new braces, after Tony had finished tinkering with them (Steve had had to put his foot down about the spinning rims), were more comfortable and supportive, and he was getting stronger by the day; one day they would go the way of the crutches. Still, Steve worried. He did his best not to smother and let Barney do as much as he was able to on his own, only stepping in to help when he was asked. Mostly, anyway. 

_I know it’s tough, but you’re both doing great. And you’re not alone, you know that._

Steve did know. The rest of the team had adopted Barney, and he had a massive network of the greatest aunties and uncles any kid could wish for. Doors were always open if Steve needed someone to look after Barney—Tony said it was like having a practice kid. Sam was always there to talk to if he needed to let off steam. Bruce got hauled into the ‘play dates’ that Tony arranged so the three science bros could hang out together. Clint was teaching him archery and Natasha had him working on beginner Russian. Thor’s tales of Asgard and the other realms fired the boy’s imagination. And then there was Bucky.

\-----

After all the drama of the hunt for the Winter Soldier, the conclusion of the search was actually an anticlimax. He turned up at Steve’s front door one day—ragged, filthy, hollow-eyed, the cybernetic arm malfunctioning and virtually useless. Steve looked into his eyes and saw his friend there, tired and afraid and confused. “Call your bosses,” Bucky said. “Tell them they can do whatever they want with me. I can’t run anymore.” Steve caught him just before he hit the floor.

It was Clint who went to bat for Bucky in the end, squaring off shoulder to shoulder with Steve against Phil Coulson. The new Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had more cause than most to be wary of anything linked to HYDRA, and he was a tough sell, but Clint made a compelling case. “It comes down to trust. You trusted Ward; he shafted you and your team. But he had a choice—this guy didn’t. I’ve been where he is. I know what it’s like to have your head invaded and you can’t do a damn thing about it. I know how it feels to do things that you can’t stop. And how much a second chance can matter. Years ago, I made a call, and Nick Fury trusted me then. Natasha and Steve trusted me, and gave me a chance to make good. We’re asking for your trust now, and a second chance. If things go south,” and he looked straight into Bucky’s eyes, “I’ll take him down myself.”

“And I’ll let him,” Bucky added softly.

There was, of course, a long debriefing period, and some initial hostility to overcome, but Bucky eventually integrated into the newly revamped S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers team. Tony had reluctantly offered to build him a state of the art prosthetic arm to replace the metal one (“that is a thing of beauty and a work of art, but if you want to dump a Picasso for an art school project, so be it”), but after a lot of thought, Bucky decided to keep what he had. It would be a constant reminder of who he had been and what he had done, and perhaps that was a good thing; it would keep him focused on the here and now. Plus, he had to admit it did have its uses in the field. There were things he would never remember, blessedly, but what he did remember left him with nightmares and massive guilt. Sam’s counselling skills came into play once again, and Steve was always there for him, but what really turned him around was meeting his namesake. 

The small boy, with his father beside him, looked up at Bucky with a clear green gaze. “My dad says you’re his best friend. And I’m named after you.” Bucky nodded, not sure how to answer. “He said you’ve known him a long time.”

“Since we were both about your age, I guess.” 

“And you’ve been friends all that time?”

Bucky’s gaze flicked to Steve, then back to the boy. “Well…there was a time when we weren’t, but we worked it out.”

Barney nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “Friends should be able to do that.” He balanced his weight on his left crutch and stuck out his right hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you, sir. You can call me Barney if you want to.” 

The solemn face, a near-mirror of the boy he’d known so long ago in a simpler time, the old-fashioned greeting, and the complete simple acceptance, had Bucky blinking back unexpected tears. He took a deep breath and shook the proffered hand. “And I’m very pleased to meet you, too. You can call me Bucky.”

Barney looked up at his dad, frowning. Steve said, “How about Uncle Bucky?” To Bucky he explained, “He’s been brought up to call adults Mr. or Ms., but you can’t have too many uncles, right?” The frown cleared, replaced by a wide grin that warmed a spot in Bucky’s soul too long iced over. In that moment, he finally felt like he’d come home.

\-----

Bucky was there when Barney came home from school that day. The three of them were going out to celebrate the science fair win. There was no good way to explain to Barney just what had happened to Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier, but it was enough that his uncle had been in the army, and had been a prisoner, and people had been very mean to him. He had his father’s dislike of bullies, so he made sure Uncle Bucky had fun and was included in every outing possible. Steve couldn’t have been happier, or prouder of his son.

The two men knew something was wrong the second Barney came through the door. His usual entrance was accompanied by a loud “I’m home!” the crash of his backpack hitting the floor, and a search for his dad if Steve wasn’t immediately visible. Today the door opened quietly, a muffled thump as the backpack slid from slumped shoulders, and there was not a word as Barney entered the living room and slouched into a corner of the sofa, fiddling with the TV remote, flipping channels and paying no attention to what was on the screen.

Steve and Bucky exchanged worried glances, unsure what to do for a moment. Then Bucky sat on the sofa next to the boy, close but not touching. “Looking forward to tonight, kiddo. Have you decided what movie you want to see yet?”

“Doesn’t matter.” The words were mumbled to the point of being unintelligible. 

Steve took the chair on the other side of the sofa. “You know, if you’d rather do something else, that’s okay too…”

“I said it doesn’t matter!” The remote was flung to the other end of the sofa, where it bounced off the arm and nearly landed on the floor. Barney’s eyes went wide, as if he’d surprised himself with the outburst. Then he closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his hands in time with his breathing. Bucky blinked several times in rapid succession, utterly confused, but Steve knew what was happening. 

“That’s right, just like Uncle Bruce showed you—in and out, in and out. Let go of it.” 

After a few minutes Barney opened his eyes again. “Better?” his father asked, and the boy nodded. “So, do you want to tell us what happened? You haven’t had to do that for a while now.”

“There were tryouts today for the baseball team, and I can’t…” A pause, then, “I just…I get so tired of being like this. Can’t run, can’t even breathe right sometimes. I’ll never be like you and Uncle Bucky. I’m little, I’m skinny—I suck!”

Everything in Steve wanted to shout that Barney was wrong, he was incredibly special, but he remembered all too well just how much he’d hated his own weaknesses. “It’s okay for him to get mad,” Sam had told him. “It’s not okay to hang onto it. Tell him to let it out and crush it before it can crush him.” His heart aching, he couldn’t do anything more than reach over to rub his son’s shoulders and wait.

Bucky spoke up after a moment. “Hey, sport, has your dad ever told you how he and I met?” Barney shook his head. “I was on my way home from school one day and I ran across this skinny little guy, smaller than you. There were two bigger kids that had him backed up against a fence, and it looked like he was about to take a pounding. But you know what? That little guy was not backing down. He had his fists up, and he was smiling. Can you believe that? Smiling at these two that wanted to turn him into hamburger.”

“How come they were going to beat you up?” Barney asked Steve.

“They were picking on another kid during recess, just because his skin was a different color. I got a teacher to come over and stop them, and they didn’t like it, so they waited for me after school.”

“Why were you smiling?”

“Trying not to let them see how scared I was.”

“Is that like…what did Auntie Nat call it? Charm and disarm?”

Steve laughed. “Kinda like that, yeah. But I’m not sure it worked; I think it just made them madder.”

“So what happened?”

“Honestly, I don’t really remember a lot of it. But I do remember this tall, stocky streak of light that took out one of them with a flying tackle and scared off the other one,” Steve said, grinning and nodding at Bucky.

“Yeah, I did. And I’ll tell you something, kid--I had never done that before. I never broke up a fight, I never stepped in when someone else was being picked on. Figured it was none of my business. And I might’ve kept walking that day, too, if it wasn’t for that grin on your dad’s face. He knew he was gonna get pounded, knew it was gonna hurt, but he was not giving an inch. I was only a kid myself, but I saw the kind of person I wanted to be. When you’re big, it’s easy to push people around—it probably wouldn’t have taken much to turn me into someone like those two bullies. The kids at school that pick on other kids—they’re usually bigger, right?” Barney nodded. “So bigger doesn’t always mean better. I’m a big guy, but I’ll always look up to that skinny kid who stood up for what was right and wouldn’t back down. He never has, even when everyone else told him he should. And you’re so much like him.”

“I am?”

Steve nodded. “Your teachers tell me you’re always the first one to help out when another kid is having a problem in school. You treat everybody with respect, and you’re always a gentleman. And you always step in if anyone is being mean to anyone else. You’re smart as a whip, and you’re tough, and you’re stronger than you know. And maybe you’re like that because you know how it feels to be a little different.” 

“So maybe I’d be different than I am if I was bigger, different inside?” Barney mused. It was a lot to take in. 

“Maybe. There’s a word for it—it’s called ‘empathy’, being able to feel what other people feel. Not everyone does, or can.”

“I don’t think I’d like that,” the boy said slowly after a moment’s thought. “I…kinda like who I am.”

“That’s good,” his dad said, “because I do, too. And I hope you never change.”

“Me, too.” A pause, then: “But being little and skinny still sucks sometimes!”

Both Steve and Bucky burst out laughing, and after a moment Barney joined them. “Yes, it does,” Steve agreed, “but there are worse things to be. You feeling a little better now?” Barney nodded, green eyes bright again. “Good, because we’ve still got some celebrating to do. It’s your evening out, so you choose—what do you feel like doing?”

 

“Wonder if the Uruk-hai are anything like the Frost Giants that Uncle Thor told me about?” Barney asked around a mouthful of pepperoni. In the end the celebration was delivered pizza, ice cream and the _Lord of the Rings_ , with the three of them curled up together on the sofa, enjoying each other’s company. 

“You’ll have to ask him the next time you see him,” Steve said, still marveling at the strides cinema had made since his time. It all looked so _real_. And he could get that kind of sound and picture from a box the size of a hardcover book and a TV he could pick up with one hand. As much as he missed about the ‘old days’, modern technology did have its uses.

Barney started nodding off in the middle of the second film, curled up against his father’s side, and Steve woke him gently. “Okay, I think that’s enough partying for one night; let’s get you ready for bed. Middle Earth isn’t going anywhere.” His son made only a token protest, yawning widely as he trudged toward the bathroom to brush his teeth. Steve and Bucky carted empty boxes and dishes into the kitchen.

“Thanks for the help with Barney tonight,” Steve said. “He doesn’t get like that very often, bless him, but when he does it’s hard to know what to do.”

“Well, you handled it like a champ. And I meant every word of what I said—I don’t know where I’d have ended up without you. You never gave up on me, even when I sometimes think maybe you should have.” 

“Hey, none of that.” The note of command in Steve’s voice pulled a reluctant grin out of his friend. “There’s been enough therapy for one night. Besides, if I’d given up on you, Barney wouldn’t have you in his life right now, and I wouldn’t have him miss that for anything.”

“Well, there is one advantage to having me around, I suppose. At least folks will know his nickname came from me and not some big purple dinosaur.”

Steve laughed. “Punk.”

“Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are most gratefully appreciated and acknowledged -- hope you enjoyed and we didn't spike your blood sugar too badly ...


End file.
